Sva Cviqve Persona
by Resme.k
Summary: Takes place in second year. Harry always knew Hermione was special. He wasn't the only one to think so, she is after all the only girl to ever interest Tom Marvolo Riddle.


A/N: So this is the first time I've ever written a fanfic and really hope that I get good reviews for it. I really love Hermione's character and feel that it wasn't explored enough. The same with Tom Riddle actually, both of them are highly intellectual and I think she could really be the one to match his power and that they are quite similar, regardless of the whole dark wizard thing. I'm not sure how long this story will be but I've planned it out and will only go on with your reviews and PLEASE DO REVIEW! This fic is going to be a Tom/Hermione/Harry triangle and I myself am looking forward as to how you take this story. Cheers!

-x-

Chapter 1

The Calm Before the Storm

After a long while Harry had felt relieved. He no longer shouldered any burdens on his shoulders and as he looked the lively Great Hall, a feeling of warmth instantly flooded his senses.

Facing Voldemort as Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets had in every form shaken him. The fear of never returning to Hogwarts, the fear of Hagrid being sent away to Azkaban, Dumbledore leaving, Ginny dying, and the primal being: never seeing Hermione again. When he was ushered along with Ron to the Hospital Wing by Professor McGonagall, a feeling of dread had set itself at the pit of his stomach. He supposed he subconsciously knew that it was Hermione, but did not want to accept it as a reality.

But then again reality had a cruel way of breezing past you and his horrid instinct was confirmed when he saw Hermione still as a statue (literally a statue), lying on the white sheets. Her eyes wide and mouth parted had been enough proof for him that she had seen the great beast. Both Ron and he had been stunned into silence at seeing her like that, and it had taken a long moment for the pair to break out of their stupor. Harry had so desperately wanted to believe that he was in a slumber and that this was just a nightmare being lived out to its extent and had waited for it to end. It did not. He knew at that moment that be it resulting in his death, he would destroy the monster that hurt his best friend. Fear was not an unknown emotion in Harry but at that moment he had never been more scared in his life, he had never felt more numb.

While Ron was also his best friend, his bond with Hermione was much more stronger. When Harry had first spoke Parseltongue, it was only Hermione that had not looked at him with fear in her eyes. Even Ron had looked slightly afraid and quite uneasy and disturbed. But she did not look at him like that at all. He always knew that he could talk to her about anything and that she would always be there to understand him, just the way one wants to be understood and believed in. Harry knew with the strongest conviction that whatever were to happen, Hermione would never betray him. It was this conviction that drove his sword through the basilisk and ended the monster once and for all. The moment he met Hermione, he knew in the back of his mind that this girl was special, but even he did not know how special she would prove to be.

The girl circling around Harry's thoughts was currently engaged in a conversation with Neville Longbottom, most probably something regarding Herbology, Harry concluded with amusement. Harry continued to observe her and everything about her, but upon feeling someone's stare Hermione turned around, facing him. Harry flushed in embarrassment and something else he could not quite put a finger on, and smiled at her awkwardly to which she replied with a toothy grin.

Yes, Harry was truly content and he was happy.

Late at night in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was sitting in front of the fire and was recalling his encounter with Tom Riddle. He remembered the tall, pale boy, with his wavy black hair and equally black eyes. The sixteen year old Riddle had oozed talent, power, intelligence and wisdom quite beyond his years. He was instantly reminded of how Hermione reflected these same traits, and quickly shook off this notion, disagreeing that while both may possess similar traits, Riddle was dark and Hermione was good.

He suddenly remembered what had happened a few moments before the basilisk was lunged at him.

_Harry stood on the damp stone floor with Tom Riddle towering over him as a strong force, when after he finished his previous rant he suddenly stated so softly and almost inaudible, that had Harry not strained _ _his ears he would not have heard a word,_

"_Besides, you have taken something that belongs to me", he stated in an eerily calm voice._

_Harry looked at him with fractionally wide eyes and a clenched jaw and answered in a suspicious tone,_

"_But you already have the diary…."_

_Tom looked back at Harry with a threateningly dark expression and his head slightly tilted, the vein in his neck pulsing quite visibly._

"_Not the diary you pathetic boy,", he said in a very quiet tone, "She was mine… she was always mine. She is mine…"_

_Riddle's eyes looked slightly unfocused when he said these words, and it appeared as though he was recounting some memory. He took a deep intake of breath and a brief flicker of affection had shined through his eyes, but as abruptly as that flicker came, it went as quickly. Harry thought that his mind was playing tricks on him as his dark eyes were now as hard as steel, and cold as ice._

Harry was still wondering whether or not that moment had been a figment of his wild imagination, or a true reality. He knew that Voldemort was incapable of love or friendship, or any emotions for that matter. He questioned his mind and his sanity for that matter because the idea of Voldemort caring for someone other than himself was absolutely preposterous. It was a known fact that Voldemort was a cold and ruthless monster who murdered and tortured without any remorse. Tom Riddle himself certainly did not seem like the type of person to invest himself in relationships and be with a girl, much less caring for one.

Harry was so deeply and thoroughly absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice Ron approach, and gave a start when he plopped down on the couch next to him,

"God, Ron! You gave me a fright,"

Ron looked at Harry with his eyebrows raised and stated as easily as if he were discussing the weather,

"Not my fault you're brooding, mate,"

Harry rolled his eyes at his fiery haired friend and sighed,

"I'm not brooding. I was just … thinking …." Harry trailed off.

Ron frowned at Harry's odd behaviour and was genuinely concerned about what was going on in his friend's head.

"Y'know, you were really elusive 'bout what happened in the Chamber. While you may have told Dumbledore and the others regarding Riddle, it seemed though you were missing out something,"

Ron noticed Harry's unease and his change in posture and continued on,

"You can tell me you know. My mouth's not that big by the way," Ron joked.

Harry and Ron softly chuckled at that, when Harry's expression slowly sobered and slightly frowned. Ron looked at him with an expectant look on his face and patiently waited for him to continue, as he did not want to pressure him into saying anything. After a long moment Harry let out a small breath, after some internal struggle and said,

"Riddle said something rather strange to me," Harry said quietly.

Ron snorted and with a small roll of his eyes huffed sarcastically,

"Yeah, I mean who would have thought the Dark Lord would _ever _say something that's strange,"

When Ron saw that Harry had not laughed or shared his amusement, and that he was still frowning, he leaned forward and said more seriously,

"Harry, I know that you're still worried about the, er, You-Know-Who thing, but you shouldn't be,"

Harry cut off his friend.

"He said I had something that was his."

Ron raised his eyebrows and asked,

"The diary? "

Harry exhaled loudly, as if finally relieved to be able to let something off his chest and continued persistently,

"See, that's what I thought as well, but then he said 'she is mine'. What do you reckon that means?"

Ron looked at him with his wide blue eyes and an astonished expression on his face. He opened his mouth and closed it again, many times actually as though he were struggling to find words, or say anything. He blinked once and then said softly,

"'She is mine' ", he repeated the words in a sort of daze and then suddenly blinked twice, like reality had truly come crashing down on him,

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!" he shrieked, breathing heavily.

Harry gave him a shove at the shoulder and said with panic,

"Ron, calm down! Do you want everyone to hear you?" Harry whisper-shouted to his friend.

At Harry's words Ron pressed his mouth in a grim line and stared into the flames of the crackling hearth, thinking what he meant by it. He had honestly hoped that this would be last time they would encounter the dark wizard, but he knew in the back of his mind that this was not true. It appeared that Harry was thinking along the same lines as he was as his expression was unnerved. The silence in the room was comfortable, and neither boy wanted to disrupt it. That was until Ron spoke up,

"I'm really glad Mione's alright."

Harry turned and looked at him with his emerald green eyes, which were obviously swimming with affection for the girl. He chuckled lightly with a small smile playing at his lips and stated,

"Even though she was … petrified … she was still the one who figured everything out."

Ron gave a grin at that and said,

"Yeah, brilliant one that girl." He then said as an afterthought, "but still bloody terrifying."

Harry didn't comment on that last statement, but a genius wasn't needed to explain the fact that he whole heartedly agreed with Ron.

"And what are you two chatting about at this late hour?"

Both boys turned around to see Hermione coming towards them. She then came and sat on the plushy chair opposite them and eyed both of them.

"Just talkin' about how bloody demented Tom Riddle is," Ron huffed with a scowl twisting his face.

Hermione frowned at him and wondered what it must be that had brought the both of them into such a flurry. Ron was still scowling, while she noticed that Harry had not uttered a single word in her presence. She also observed that he seemed to be quite uneasy and was shifting quite uncomfortably under her scrutiny. She looked at her friends suspiciously and was wondering why Harry was avoiding making any eye contact with her.

"Harry, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, everything's alright." Harry replied rather quickly and he was silently cursing himself, knowing that Hermione could clearly see through his pretence. He took a moment to question himself as well, as to why he was avoiding telling her what he had told Ron earlier. He did not know himself the reason he was abstaining from telling her the truth. It was just an instinct and feeling he had in his gut, that it would be best to keep her in the dark about this and told himself that he would tell her later. In many circumstances his instincts had proved to be correct, so he decided to stick with them at this moment and thought that it was the right thing to do. Ron was probably also curious at his reluctance to inform Hermione, as he spared Harry a glance but decided to keep quiet on the subject.

Hermione was by no means an idiot and knew that there was something wrong, as she saw the brief exchange between Ron and Harry. She knew that they were keeping something from her, but seeing how tired and exhausted Harry seemed, presumably from the whole basilisk situation and meeting Voldemort as a student no less, she made up her mind not to further press the situation and instead she started,

"So, I'm sure that Myrtle would not miss an opportunity to gain some attention with you asking her to tell her tale?"

Harry and Ron laughed at that lightly, and instantly the tension and seriousness in the room had evaporated replaced by a jovial lightness. The three second years, decided to joke around through the night. During that time Hermione could not help but notice that Harry was secretly sneaking glances at her, when he thought that she wasn't looking. She at once remembered what happened in the Great Hall at dinner. She attributed his behaviour to her previous state of petrification, and thought that if she were in Harry's shoes and had she experienced a friend of hers being immobilized for an indefinite period of time, she would also want to make sure that they were really back and were not just an illusion. So, she immediately dismissed this notion.

Late at night, when the trio had finally parted ways, Harry lay in his bed staring at the scarlet and gold ceiling of his bed thinking of a certain curly haired witch. He didn't know what it was exactly but when he saw the firelight reflected on Hermione's pale skin he swore she was glowing. Something had fluttered inside him he just thought how ….. nice ….her features looked. Her amber eyes had looked a vibrant golden to him and her light brown curls had possessed subtle highlights of a honeyed blonde and copper. He wondered if Hermione was thinking of him as he was of her.

_What Harry did not know was that the girl he was thinking about was twisting and turning in her bed, dreaming of dark eyes, ivory skin and an irresistible magical aura. In her dream Hermione could not come across any solid object or ground, it seemed as though she was in a kind of oblivion; vast and ceaseless. She heard faint whispers of sibilant hisses around her, but wherever she looked she saw nothing. It was when she suddenly felt two cold hands on her shoulders and a sharp intake of breath that her whole being froze with fear. She felt suffocated; she could not breathe. It was those darkly whispered words that terrified her most,_

'_**Soon, my Hermione…' **_


End file.
